To Get Back to You
by skygirl55
Summary: Three weeks. Three weeks since she'd seen him. Richard Castle had been missing for three weeks. Spoilers through 6X04
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: In my mind this would take place sometime shortly after episode 6x04**

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**One**

Three weeks. Three weeks since she'd seen him. Three weeks since she saw his smile, heard his laugh or felt his lips against hers. Richard Castle had been missing for three weeks.

Most mornings when she woke for one fleeting moment she believed it was all in her imagination; a horrible nightmare. Though he wasn't beside her in bed, he was in the shower or in the kitchen making her one of his ridiculous pancake smile breakfasts. Then, as she pushed herself up to a sitting position she would realize the shower water wasn't running and there was no aroma of vanilla and cinnamon filling the apartment. He wasn't there and that fact hit her like an eighteen wheeler to the chest every single time.

Her chest would begin to heave, her breath coming in short spurts. She would throw off the blankets as the sweat formed across her brow at her hairline, at the base of her neck and down the top of her spine. Scurrying to the bathroom, she would pull off her pajama pants and t-shirt as she went, the clothing suffocating her. She was unable to wait for the shower water to warm to the desired temperature before she would stumble inside, hands running against the smooth tile, stand beneath the spray and allow herself one moment—just one moment—to be completely overwhelmed with loss.

That morning had started like any other: sun shining, birds chirping, rainbows forming in the skies overhead. At least, that's how it felt for the newly engaged and blissful couple. Kate awoke to him dusting kisses across her jaw and down her neck, his stubble scratching her in the way that made her groan and swat at him. Per usual, this did nothing to halt his advances and before she even fully opened her eyes he was already pulling off her pajama pants and panties.

When she stepped out of the shower after their morning encounter, the loft was filled with the delicious aroma of coffee and cinnamon: two of her favorite things. She practically skipped—yes, blissfully engaged Kate Beckett did know how to skip—into the kitchen where he was waiting with his sexy bed-head of floppy hair. At her chosen seat at the counter he placed a steaming mug of java and his infamous cinnamon swirl pancakes, which she doused in syrup before digging in.

"You keep feeding me like this, Castle, and I'll never fit in to a wedding dress," she'd teased him, knowing full well that the pre-Rick-and-Kate breakfast for her had been a banana and possibly some instant oatmeal if she was in the mood to "cook" that morning.

"Impossible," he'd retorted. "You haven't even bought a dress yet. I'm sure they go up to size twenty or so…"

She'd glared at his smirk before shoving another fork-full of pancake into her mouth.

As they ate, they chatted about their plans for that day. She was busy preparing for a trial so there would be no case for them, but he agreed that was fine; he had writing to get done anyway. When she offered to meet him for lunch, he'd refused at first, saying that he might be too busy writing. When she arched an eyebrow at him, he'd laughed and confessed, "Just kidding. I'm never too busy writing to hang out with you." He'd kissed her and added, "But seriously, better text me first just on the off chance I'm actually in the middle of a good scene."

"Whatever you say, Castle," she'd smiled. Then, with another kiss they parted.

That was the last time she saw him.

She relived that scene in her mind dozens if not a hundred times over the prior twenty-one days. Her brain searched for clues, searched for any sign, any indicator that something was amiss, but there was nothing. It was just Castle; regular, ridiculous Castle. She had no way of knowing that day would be the one that changed her life forever.

"Detective?" Gates' voice roused her from her thoughts. Kate sat, elbow on her desk, chin propped up in her open palm and she stared distantly at her computer screen. She always forced herself to stare straight ahead because if she turned her head to the side and caught a glimpse of his vacant chair it was like losing him all over again. The ache, the trembling, the twisting knife in her gut.

Kate's eyes shifted in the direction of her commanding officer and she saw Gates gesture for her to come to her office. With a deep breath, she pushed her palms flat against the desk to assist in the standing process. She took the twenty steps to Gates' office looking straight ahead, refusing meet any of her colleagues eyes.

The pitiful looks she received from her coworkers infuriated her. Didn't they know she felt bad enough without them cocking their heads to the side and telling her not to worry? As if that would make her feel better! The only thing that would make her feel better would be Richard Castle stepping off the elevator and walking towards her with two cups of coffee and that wasn't going to happen.

"Please have a seat, Detective," Gates said, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. When Kate sat, she did as well. She folded her fingers together and rested her joined fists on the desk before gazing over at the younger woman. "I'm sorry, Detective, but we're going to have to suspend the investigation."

Kate lunged forward in her seat, uncrossing her legs. "Sir-"

"Detective."

"But sir!"

"Kate." Gates spoke forcefully, silencing Kate and making her lean back in her chair. Softening her expression, Gates continued. "I'm sorry, but there just isn't anything here. No leads. No clues. We don't even know where he was last seen. We've done everything we can, Detective, but there's just nothing there."

Gates took a deep breath, sighed and gave Kate an expression of genuine sympathy. "Please understand that if there was anything to go on I'd be more than willing to devote resources to it. I want to see Mr. Castle return just as much as the next person, but with other cases coming in, my hands are tied."

Kate dropped her chin to her chest. "I understand." Gates was right; she knew Gates was right.

If this had been any other missing person, the investigation wouldn't have even gone on this long. Gates had already been more than generous, pushing the boundaries of their normal protocol to search for someone who was as close to a cop as anyone could get without actually going through the academy. Gates had allowed Ryan, Esposito, and herself to run the case almost without interruption, but she had to draw the line somewhere. It was, after all, her precinct.

After clearing her throat, Kate looked up. "Thank you, Sir; I appreciate everything you've done."

Gates nodded. "I am truly sorry, Detective. I promise you that the moment anything new comes in we'll reopen this case." Kate nodded, but otherwise didn't move. Gates stood, walked around to the other side of her desk and sat down just inches from the younger woman. Keeping her tone soft, she said, "Why don't you go home, take some time off—some time for yourself. When you're ready to come back, we'll be here."

Kate nodded, knowing this move well. It was the I-don't-think-you're-fit-for-duty-but-I-don't-want -to-come-out-and-say-it-or-make-a-perminant-record -so-why-don't-you-try-to-handle-it-on-your-own move. She would have been lying if she hadn't seen it coming. "Thank you, Captain."

By the time she returned to the squad room, Ryan and Esposito were dismantling the missing-Richard-Castle whiteboard. When they spotted her, they froze as though they were twin four-year-olds whose mother caught them finger painting on the wall. Again.

For several moments Kate stared at his picture—a headshot of his she had chosen because she knew it was one of his favorites—and the date above it. She was getting that feeling again: the one that made it feel like her heart and lungs had been put in a vice. The longer she stared, the tighter it squeezed. Finally, unable to tolerate another second, she tore her gaze away and walked back to her desk.

"We're gonna get him back, Beckett," Esposito said encouragingly.

She forced a smile and looked at him and then to Ryan. For their faith alone, she loved them more than she could ever say. Right from the beginning—right from those first hours when she couldn't get a hold of him—they were there. They never for one second believed what the others said: Richard Castle had disappeared by his own choosing. He'd followed a story. Followed an intoxicating woman. Followed a crazy dream and became a Cosmonaut.

Ryan and Esposito never believed any of that. They had known Castle for five years as well and over that time they'd come to know the same thing she knew in her gut to be true: there was absolutely no way that Castle would leave her, his daughter, or his mother without saying something. It just wasn't possible. That wasn't the kind of person he was. Wherever he went on the fateful morning of September 17th, he had every intention of returning within a few hours.

"Thanks guys," she said, before clearing her throat of hoarseness. "I'm gonna, uh, go. Call me if…"

"Of course," Ryan told her, smiling. "Don't worry, Beckett; we're on the case."

She nodded at them before grabbing her jacket and leaving the precinct. The only way she could go was knowing they would stay behind and continue searching—behind Gates' back if that's what it took. They would never give up and neither would she.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

She'd barely made it half a block before she was in a battle to the death with her own emotions. That's who she was; a fighter. Every time her lips would tremble, she would smash them together and force the tremors to subside. If her eyes began to burn she would clench her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms, using the pain to distract herself. She wouldn't break down, not here; not now. She feared—she knew—if the floodgates opened she would never be able to close them again. She just had to make it home—to his home, the loft.

As she walked, the cool autumn breeze dancing leaves around her, she hugged her elbows and remembered it: September 17th.

Just as he requested, she'd texted him shortly after noon, saying she needed a break and was going out to lunch. Within fifteen minutes he had not responded, which to her meant one of two things had happened: either a) he was actually in the writing zone and too preoccupied to respond or b) he was distracted with something (more than likely a video game) and didn't notice her text. She decided to call him, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Deciding he was busy, she hung up without leaving a message and went with Ryan and Esposito to get a pastrami sandwich.

After a monotonous afternoon of sitting at her desk, she was more than ready for a little quality time with her fiancé. On her way back to the loft she was mentally deciding the best way to rib him for being too busy to answer her text the entire afternoon. What, she wondered, did he have Nikki Heat up to now?

When she walked into the loft, she came face to face with Martha's crestfallen expression. "Richard isn't with you?" she asked.

"What? No. He's writing," she responded simply.

"He's not," Martha insisted. "I've been home for an hour and I haven't seen him; I thought he was with you."

Kate's brow furrowed and she pulled out her phone. She speed-dialed his number and once again it went directly to voicemail. "It's me; call me back when you get this. Where are you?" Her message was brief and to the point. She gave Martha a slight shrug before walking into the bedroom, removing her boots and hanging up her suit jacket. She exited the bedroom through Castle's office and gazed casually over at his desk. What she saw, or, rather, what she _didn't_ see, caused her cop instincts to go on high alert.

"His laptop is gone." Kate informed Martha, rushing back into the kitchen area.

"Is it? That's odd." Martha commented.

This wasn't right; she just knew it wasn't right. Castle rarely left the loft to write. He claimed he was far too easily distracted when he went to coffee shops or other public venues. Also, frequent interruptions (like when fans recognized him) only slowed his already glacial-at-times process, so he preferred to stay in the loft to write, which meant his laptop also stayed inside the loft.

"Perhaps he went somewhere to write?" Martha speculated.

"Where?" Kate asked, mostly rhetorically. On the off occasion he did go someplace like the public library to write he _always_ put his phone on vibrate and left it in his pocket so he would know if someone was trying to get a hold of him (aka if she was calling with a case he could use as an excuse to prolong completing his next chapter).

"I'll call Alexis—maybe she's spoken with him. He's got to be somewhere; he didn't just _vanish,_" Martha said.

But that's what Kate's gut was telling her. Something was wrong. He wouldn't just disappear, turn his phone off, and not tell her. Even if he had carelessly let his phone battery die, he would not have been away from the loft past six. His stomach practically had its own alarm clock for dinner.

For the next three hours she called him every fifteen minutes with no avail; the number was still going direct to voicemail. As she dialed Esposito she tried to tell herself it was crazy; she was being silly. This was ridiculous and there was absolutely a rational explanation for all of it. She tried to laugh it off as she asked Espo to call in the favor he owed with one of the guys in tech. One phone trace; that's all she needed. He protested at first, but after she pleaded with him the third time, he caved.

A half hour that felt like several days passed before Esposito called her back. Tech was unable to trace the phone, which only meant that the phone was off and unable to be turned on, which meant the battery was dead or destroyed. "Don't worry Kate; I'm sure he'll check in soon," he had told her.

But she did worry. She sat up that whole night waiting for him to call or come home, but he never did. She went to work with deep circles under her eyes and sat ridged at her desk waiting for him to step off the elevator with coffee and an outlandish story, but he never did. When Esposito and Ryan arrived, they were laughing. They asked Kate what Castle's excuse was for not calling the prior evening and that's when she told them: she still hadn't heard from him. The three of them went to Gates to present their case.

"You know the rule, Detective. Forty-eight hours before reporting a missing person. How long has it been since you've spoken to Mr. Castle?"

"Twenty-five hours, forty-two minutes," she responded promptly.

Gates looked at the three of them, her expression slightly unnerved. "Alright, you can trace his phone but-"

"We, uh, may have already done that," Esposito confessed casually.

"And?" Gates asked. Espo shook his head. Gates suggested they look into his known hangouts; he was bound to be somewhere.

Except he wasn't. At the forty-eight hour mark, Kate's hands shook as she filled out the official missing person's report. Gates took it from her with a sympathetic smile and agreed with a nod when Kate requested to open an immediate investigation. Since then, their search had been filled with a never-ending series of dead ends, tireless false leads, and a whole lot of nothing.

When she arrived at the loft, she stood in the hall unsure of how to proceed with the day; her life. She'd been officially moved in for barely six weeks. When celebrating her reinstatement to the NYPD at the Old Haunt, Castle had asked her to officially move in with him. They were engaged so they should be living together, he'd said. Maybe it was the third glass of wine she'd had, but the normal hesitant Kate Beckett didn't feel the need to come out that night, she'd happily agreed and had been living at the loft ever since. Now, suddenly, being there felt wrong.

She stepped into their bedroom and looked around. Her knickknacks were mixed with his. Her clothing hung next to his. Everything that was hers or his, side by side, but this was not right. This couldn't be. How could she stay here if he wouldn't be next to her?

Fight or flight instinct hit her like a bullet; she had to get out of there. How could she stay one more second and stare at his empty side of the bed? How could she smell his pillow knowing that the scent of him was fading and mostly in her own memory? How could she sit on the couch and not think of his warm, solid frame beside her whispering ridiculous things in her ear during every commercial break?

She hurried to the closet and flicked on the light. She eyed her Louis Vuitton trunk suitcase on the top shelf, reached for it and missed. Damn, why did he have to store it on the highest shelf? She jumped and missed again. On the third try she grasped the handle, but failed to accurately remember just how heavy it was. The suitcase slipped from her grasp and she cowered to the side as it crashed to the floor, the corner painfully jabbing her arm as it did so. At least it was down. She dragged the item into the bedroom and flipped it open. God, why did everything have to remind her of him? Even this suitcase.

During their first weekend getaway to the Hamptons he had laughed at her suitcase. _Laughed_ at it. It was, in his opinion, pathetic. She would be the first to admit that it wasn't the shiniest or newest, but it had served her well over the years. The American Tourister piece had been a high school graduation gift from her parents and she'd been using it ever since.

Just before their second trip together he'd surprised her with the Louie trunk. She'd initially refused, stating that the five-thousand-plus dollar piece was way too extravagant, but in true Richard Castle fashion he had not taken no for an answer. In fact, he'd made her accepting the suitcase gift a condition of traveling together. Begrudgingly, she'd accepted the gift, but always teased him about the "burden" he was putting on her each and every time she used it. Since the handle and wheels of her Tourister had "mysteriously" fallen off, the Louie was the only real piece of luggage she had, so she had no choice but to use it to pack up her things.

She grabbed an armful of bras and underwear from the chest of drawers and dumped them unceremoniously into the open trunk. She then went to the next drawer and did the same with her pajamas. By the time she was going for the third trip, slamming drawers and tripping over the trunk multiple times as she went, Martha had entered the room.

"My goodness—what's going on here?" she demanded.

Kate froze mid-way across the room with four pairs of jeans in her arms. "I can't stay here," She confessed before walking to the trunk and dumping the jeans inside. "I'm sorry. I have to… I can't…" The tears she'd fought so hard to suppress finally spilled out as she spoke to the older woman. Her hands began to tremble and she brought them up to her face, trying to hide her emotions.

"Katharine, Katharine. Calm down," Martha said, approaching and grasping each of Kate's arms in hers. "What it is? What's happened?"

Kate sat back on the bed with Martha beside her and sniffed. "Gates suspended the investigation today. She was right to; it's not her fault but… but it's over. It's done. We can't investigate and if we can't find…he won't…what if…what if he doesn't come back? What if we never find him?"

For the first time since his disappearance, sobs completely overtook her body. She wept violently as Martha pulled her into her arms and stroked her hair. Kate's hands remained pinned to her cheeks as though they would hold back the tears, but her efforts were fruitless. The stream of salty liquid poured from beneath her eyelids, unable to be stanched until it had run itself dry.

Martha rocked her gently back and forth as she rubbed her back, fighting back her own emotions. "Oh my darling girl. I know. I know, but you have to have faith. I know it's hard, but you've got to. Richard will be back. You've got to know that he would fight heaven and earth to get back here to us."

"But what if-"

"Shh. No buts. He will come back or you will find him. I would expect nothing less of the NYPD's finest detective." As Kate's sobs subsided, Martha pushed the younger girl up enough to be able to look into her face and force a smile. "Now let's forget about all this packing nonsense and go have ourselves a beverage, hmm?"

Kate's eyes darted to the suitcase and then back to her future mother-in-law. "But Martha, I shouldn't-"

Martha shook her head knowingly. "What did I say about buts? This is your home, Katharine Beckett; you're family and you're not leaving."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the USA!**

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**Three**

Kate Beckett hated doing nothing. Unlike her significant other, she did not find joy in the days where her "To Do" list consisted of a blank piece of paper with stick figure drawings in the corners. Even if she took a vacation, she liked to have activities planned out; she needed something to occupy her time.

Despite her need for a purpose, she still struggled to concentrate. Every few minutes her gut would clench or her breath would hitch. She'd see him out of the corner of her eye almost every hour. Expect him to walk up from behind and hug her and kiss her cheek. When those things never happened, it felt like losing him all over again.

On her third day away from the twelfth she decided the best thing for her to do would be to clean the loft. She didn't mind cleaning. In fact, it soothed her. Cleaning was methodical and purposeful. Cleaning was something she could control. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, rolled up her sleeves and set to work; the shelves of Castle's office, filled with tchotchkes and toys, had the words "dust me" written all over them.

As she dismantled, cleaned and replaced one shelf at a time, Kate's thoughts drifted back to the precinct. What were Ryan and Esposito doing? Had they found anything new about Castle's case? No, of course not. They would have called her the moment did.

Almost a month with no solid leads. The thought of that alone was almost so crushing she could hardly bare it. She was a cop and had been for over a decade. She knew the statistics; she knew what that meant. She knew Ryan and Esposito did their best to distract her from that fact and they did a good job of it most days.

A week earlier, during one of her darker moments, Kate had escaped to the break room, needing a chance to regulate her breathing after the sight of the empty chair beside her desk had her in a near tailspin. Esposito followed her and placed her hand on her shoulder as she leaned against the counter and focused on her inhales and exhales.

"He's gone, isn't he? I wish someone would just say it. You're all thinking it, but no one has the balls to just say it."

"He's not gone, Beckett," Esposito assured her.

She looked up at him and peered through the curtain of her hair. "You know the stats as well as I do. If an adult is missing for this long than more than likely-"

"Don't say it," he tried to stop her.

"-they're dead," she finished, her voice holding steady by some miracle. The tears burned along the outer edges of her eyes as she stared up at him. "What if he's dead, Espo?"

His tone was firm as he spoke. "He's not dead."

"But how-"

"Because I just know," he countered. "He's not dead, Kate."

She shook her head and stepped away, folding her arms across her chest and latching her hands onto her elbows. If Castle wasn't dead then the statistics told her there was only one other likely option. "Then what if they're right? What if he ran off and-"

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Esposito's brow knitted together as he approached. "You can't; it's ridiculous. Five years I've watched that man follow you around like he was a starving mutt and you had a juicy bone in your coat pocket. If the entire _Sports Illustrated_ swim suit edition was standing in front of him inviting him out for drinks he'd still pick a murder case with you over them. It's sick really."

Esposito's attempt at making her smile worked and an ever so slight one cracked through her otherwise morose expression.

"That man didn't leave you, Kate," he continued. "And if you don't believe me, believe that ring on your finger."

Ever since the last day she'd seen him, Kate had forgone putting her ring on the chain with her mother's every morning and instead chose to wear it in its proper location. For a reason she could not explain, this act made her feel better. The ring served as a sign that she was still engaged; that she had not yet given up on him, so she would continue to wear it until the day he returned to her.

Two hours into her cleaning endeavor, Kate had barely finished one third of the shelves in the office. Looking around at all the items she'd come to know over the years she was amazed. There was so much stuff! How had she never noticed just _how many_ strange, random things he had all together in one space. There were dozens of figurines, vases and statures. Some were high-end pieces with significant value. Others, were Made-in-China figurines procured from Happy Meals.

On the shelves nearest to his desk she picked a small earthen pot she hadn't taken much notice to in the past. It stood several inches tall and equally as wide with a broad mouth. The exterior was glazed while the interior left raw. Intrigued, she flipped the pot over to see if there were any markings on the bottom. As she did so, a folded piece of paper floated to the floor.

She replaced the pot on the shelf, bent down and picked up the paper. It was a plain white sheet that appeared to be folded several time. She flipped it over in her hands and a cold sweat immediately formed across her skin. _IF I EVER DISAPPEAR_ was written in bold letters across one of the folds in Castle's messy scrawl.

Unnerved, Kate's looked up and her eyes darted around the apartment to see if her discovery had been some sort of ruse. She would not have put it past Castle to pop out of a closet at that moment, scare her to death, and then proclaim that the prior four weeks had all been part of an elaborate "Gotcha" scheme from him, perhaps a retaliation for her faux-murder-mystery birthday present.

She waited for a solid minute, but nothing happened, so she turned back to the paper she held and slowly began to unfold it. Her heart rate sped and her hands began to feel clammy. With trembling fingers, she held the page in her hand to discover it had once been a sheet of regular copy paper torn in half. At the top corner was a date: November 1, 2010. She swallowed hard and began to read.

_If I ever disappear:_

_1) Please don't be mad—I was probably doing it for a story_

_2) Linus has a copy of my will_

_3) The keys to the safety deposit boxes are in the wall safe_

_4) The wall safe combination is Alexis's birthday_

_5) I'm in love with Kate Beckett—please make sure she knows_

The final item on the list made her breath hitch in her chest and her hands shake so much she nearly dropped the page. She scanned the letter again and thought about the date, November 2010, almost exactly three years prior. What was happening at that time? She was with Josh and Castle…was back with his ex-wife Gina! His "just in case" wish was that she know his true feelings while he was with another woman? No, she couldn't think about that; she was already at her emotional processing limit.

Still holding the sheet, she walked from the office to the bedroom and sat at the edge of the bed. Castle must have forgotten he put the paper there, that much was clear, but for the life of her she could not decipher the second item. Linus had a copy of his will? She knew his lawyer's name was Shawn Peterson and Linus was not the name of his agent or publisher. Linus…Linus. She brought the paper up to rest against her upper lip and though. Linus.

Suddenly, it hit her. The eight foot high black and white hanging just a few feet from their bed. The one that creeped her out every night as she tried to fall asleep with it watching her. It was a lion. Lion-us! Well played, Castle, she thought.

She tossed the note aside and fell to her knees in front of the picture. The picture and frame would be too large and heavy for her to remove by herself so she decided to feel gently around the edges to see what she could discover. At the very center of the bottom her fingers came in contact with an envelope. With some gentle rocking and tugging she was able to loosen it enough for it to fall to the ground. The plain manila envelope wasn't sealed, so she was easily able to slide the document out into her lap.

_Last Will and Testament_

_I, Richard Edgar Castle, hereby bequeath the following:_

_To my daughter, Alexis Castle, all forthcoming royalties for my Derrick Storm novels and a trust fund in the amount of twenty million dollars available to her on her twenty-first birthday. Before then, withdrawals can only be made to pay for college tuition._

_To my mother, Martha Rodgers, the loft on Broom Street, forthcoming royalties for my first books (pre-Derrick Storm), and ten million dollars._

_The remainder of my earthly possessions including my home in Southampton, NY, all forthcoming royalties from the Nikki Heat books, and the remainder of my fortune and investments I leave to the extraordinary Katharine Beckett without whom I would not be the man I am today_.

Kate couldn't breathe.

The page dropped to her lap but she remained frozen with her hands in front of her, index finger and thumbs pinched together as though she was still holding the sheet. This couldn't happen; this wasn't possible.

He'd left her everything. Everything! Well, everything minus thirty million dollars and the loft. Dear God, how much was that!?

They'd never specifically discussed their finances and, quite frankly, Kate wasn't even sure she wanted to know exactly what his "number" was; she feared it would be too intimidating. However, the prior year when Tyson had tried to frame him for murder, the boys had dug into Castle's financials and she knew at that point that, all assets included, he was worth somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy-five million. Considering he'd published an additional Nikki Heat book in that time, she could only assume that number had grown.

Suddenly, she felt the overwhelming desire for an alcoholic beverage. She picked up the will and carried it with her into the kitchen. She grabbed one of her favorite bottles of wine and dumped half of it into one of Castle's oversized glasses and took several large gulps. She then returned the wine to the cooler so as not to tempt herself with the remainder of the bottle and gazed down at the will on the counter as though it was the viper she was having a staring contest with.

Twenty minutes later when Martha arrived home Kate still hadn't moved, though her wine glass had been drained. "What is it, Katharine?" Martha asked as she approached. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Kate pointed to the documents on the counter. "I, uh, I found Castle's will but…but this isn't right—this can't be right."

Martha picked up the pages from the counter and examined them. "Oh yes, this is the newest version." By the time she looked back up, Kate had paled a shade.

"This isn't…I…he shouldn't have… It can't be…"

Martha walked over and grasped the hands of the younger woman. "Of course it's right, Dear. He had it changed while you were still in DC. And yes, he told me all about it. It was what he wanted. He loves you."

Kate shook her head slowly, unable to comprehend the gravity of what all of this meant. "But this…I can't."

"You can and you will," Martha told her firmly. "But we don't need to worry about any of this right now." Martha looped her arm around Kate's elbow and guided her towards the bedroom as though she were a reluctant mule. "Why don't you put on something nice and we'll go out to lunch, alright?"

"Okay," she agreed distantly knowing there would be no way for her to properly thank Martha for all she had done—all her attempts at distraction—over the prior weeks. Kate didn't know what she would have done without her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Kate loved the swings. There was just something so freeing, childish and pure about soaring through the air, the breeze dancing through her hair. She loved them even more since they were the spot where Castle proposed; those swings would forever be _their_ spot.

Of course, at one p.m. on a Saturday she was not the only one interested in using those swings. After getting yet another peeved glare from a six-year-old girl and her scowl wearing father, Kate relinquished her spot and instead chose to sit on a bench several feet away. She still wasn't ready to leave the park and return to the empty loft. Martha had a special weekend class with her acting students and as it was the middle of the semester Alexis was still in school.

Ten minutes passed when a man approached the bench beside her. He was tall—over six feet—with salt-and-pepper hair and aviator sunglasses. At first blush, she would have pegged him in his mid-to-late sixties. He leaned back against the bench, staring broadly across the lawn before them for several minutes before he said simply, "Lovely day."

When he spoke, Kate leaned forward ever so slightly and looked over to him, still not certain he was speaking to her.

The man removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of his shirt before gazing at her and continuing. "It's funny. Day's like this one…places like this. They make you think that everything is okay in the world even when its not. Somewhere in the city someone is being robbed, shot, stabbed. Couples are fighting, breaking up. A girl is missing her father, a mother her son, and a fiancée her betrothed."

His words made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Cop instinct was setting in; something wasn't right. Instinctively, her right hand slid to her hip, but nothing was there. Her service piece was back at the twelfth and her spare in the drawer beside the bed in the loft.

The man's eyes darted to her hands and then back to her face. "You don't have to worry," he told her.

Kate stared him down, analyzing his ice blue eyes for signs of darkness. Then, as she observed him, a different picture came to light. She saw it: the striking color of his eyes, the way his lips moved as he formed words and even the way he sat. "You're Castle's father," she concluded with an exhale, rotating her hips so she was facing him on the bench.

One corner of his lip tugged upwards as he gazed back across the lawn. "So he's told you about me."

"Yes," she said, shifting closer. "About Paris, how you saved Alexis. That you're CIA."

The elder man nodded and brushed his fingers across his upper lip. "Then it shouldn't surprise you that in my line of work I'm privy to certain information. I have access to certain resources, shall we say." He turned and looked at her directly. "My son is alive, Ms. Beckett."

"Please, Kate," she corrected him instinctively. After all they were practically family. Kind of.

"Kate. He's alive. You're going to need to look at the Spiritatis."

Her brow wrinkled. "The crime family?"

He nodded. "You've heard of them, good. So what's their felony of choice?"

"Drug smuggling," she answered automatically.

He grinned. "See you don't even need me."

He moved to stand from the bench but she shot her hand out, resting it on his forearm. "Wait, I…there's so much…" Her mind was spinning. So many questions, she had no idea which to pose first. She decided on the most crucial. "You're sure? You're sure he's alive?"

"Yes, and you don't need to worry. He's not in any imminent danger."

Kate's voice came out as a slight squeak. "Wha-I-how do you know that? And if you know where he is, why can't you-"

"You're a smart girl—you know why." He stood from the bench and turned back to face her. "Good luck, Detective. Oh and, uh, please pass my congratulations on to your fiancé. Glad to see my son finally got it right."

Unable to wait another second, Kate texted Esposito and found that by pure luck he and Ryan had pulled a weekend shift. They were at the twelfth waiting for a case, which meant they were at the twelfth tossing a tennis ball back and forth to one another waiting for the phone to ring, so her timing was perfect.

Despite the fact that Castle's father had assured her he was alive, Kate was not ready to walk by her desk and see the empty chair beside it, so she requested the boys meet her across the street at their favorite coffee cart. She would buy them each a cup and they could chat about the tip she received.

"'sup chica," Esposito greeted her with a warm hug. Ryan did the same. "Long time no see."

"It's been four days," she said with a furrowed brow. Esposito shrugged. "Look, guys, I need you to look into the Spiriati family."

"The Spiriatis?" Ryan asked, glancing at his partner and then back at Kate.

"Yeah. I need you to look into the whereabouts of the major players and any known associates."

"Why? Is this related to Castle?" Esposito asked, though he knew full well there would be no other case Kate would be working on at that moment.

Kate nodded. "But I can't really tell you why."

"What? No way, Beckett; we're partners, remember?"

She skimmed her teeth across her bottom lip and sighed. The boys weren't aware of Castle's father's involvement in getting Alexis back when she was kidnapped. In fact, they weren't aware of Castle's father's existence at all and she didn't want to be the one outing that secret. "My contact…my contact is in the CIA and I-"

"A spook?" Esposito asked, his voice going up half an octave. "Kate—what the hell'd your boy get himself into?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," she confessed. She shook her head and stuffed her hands in her back pockets. "Please, guys, just…just help me out. Look into the Spiriatis."

"Those are some serious mobsters, Beckett," Ryan said. "They have many levels of protection around them. We're going to need a little more to go on."

"I wish I had more. All I know is this somehow involves the Spiriati family."

"Does it have something to do with what Castle was writing? I mean, is Nikki Heat going undercover with the mob or something?" Ryan asked.

Kate shook her head. "As far as I'm aware the next book deals with a serial bomber and Heat and Rook have to diffuse a bomb. Nothing about the mob or drug smuggling—but that's only what he's told me. I haven't read any of it." Of course the first thing she had done was look into the book he was writing, but with his laptop gone all she had to go off of was what he told her. From past experience she knew that was not always accurate. It wasn't that he purposely kept the plot from her, but while he was still in the middle of the writing process he changed his mind so much it was hard to keep up.

Ryan shook his head and rocked back on his heels. "Well that doesn't really help us."

"I think I may have something," Esposito chimed in. "I think the NYPD has an undercover on the inside of the Spiriati family. Let me sniff around and see if I can come up with something."

Kate smiled for the first time in days. "You guys are the best, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah we know; we know," Esposito said. "Just keep in mind that when Castle does come back he's going to owe us some serious time with that Ferrari of his."

Kate did not hear from Ryan or Esposito until Tuesday. The terrified fiancée in her wanted to call them every hour for updates until she heard from them, but the cop in her knew better. Getting in contact with an undercover was difficult enough under most circumstances, but someone undercover with the Spiriatis would have to be deep—very deep—and that would take even longer. To be honest, she was surprised it happened that quickly and even more surprised when Esposito's message was very cloak-and-dagger.

Per his instructions, Kate met the two of them at a parking structure in Queens, a far cry from their normal stomping grounds. She had the cab drop her a block away and then she walked to the second floor of the structure, where they were waiting for her. "What's up guys?" she asked as she approached. "You find something?"

"Shit's getting weirder, Beckett," Esposito told her.

"Weirder?" she questioned, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

"Yeah. Like way weirder."

From the way they were hesitating and continually looking at each other, she knew something was amiss. "Just tell me guys; I can handle it."

Ryan sighed and stepped towards her. "Well, he's alive; we know that for sure. Our undercover saw him—sitting on a couch in Vinnie Spiriati's living room."

At the mention of the crime boss's name, Kate's eyes widened. "What?"

"No lie, Beckett," Esposito continued. "He was just sitting there. Guy told his CO from the way he was acting it looked like he was one of them; like he might have turned."

"No way!" Kate spat immediately.

Esposito held up his hand to slow down the Beckett fury about to rain down on him. "Relax. We don't think that."

She folded her arms over her chest, glad they still had her back. "So what do you think?"

"The way I figure there's only one way to get Richard Castle to do something."

Ryan continued for him. "Threaten your life—or Alexis's. Or both."

Kate turned her eyes to the ground and thought for a moment, taking a few steps in a circle as her investigative brain went to work. Castle acting like he was one of Spiriatis. Her life being threatened. The strange meet in a nearly abandoned location. "So…you think that maybe…maybe I'm being watched—we're being watched. And the loft might be bugged."

Esposito grinned. "Oh look, Detective Beckett's back."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Kate rode with Ryan and Esposito back to the twelfth. With confirmation that her fiancé was alive, she was ready to attack the case head-on; she would not rest until he was returned to her. They pieced the Castle disappearance whiteboard back together and set to work on tying his last known movements to the known whereabouts of the crime family.

On Monday morning they brought the case to Gates, who agreed they now had sufficient evidence to reopen the investigation. She also made it clear that had Castle in fact turned and become one of the Spiriatis she would have no problem prosecuting him to the fullest extent of the law.

Despite Kate's renewed determination, they still did not have the desired amount of evidence to proceed. Both the NYPD and the Feds had been going after the Spiriati family for years with one common result: the Spiriati's always got off. Be it a technicality or a witness that suddenly had a change of heart (or went missing all together) they always seemed to slip through the cracks, and Kate was determined not to let that happen again.

Shortly before seven on Tuesday morning, just as she was starting on her first mug of coffee, Kate received a call from the central dispatch stating that there was a crime scene for her and her team. She texted Ryan and Esposito and told them to meet her there before heading back to the bedroom to finish getting ready. Though she wanted to dedicate one hundred percent of her time to bringing Castle home, she was actually looking forward to her first case back on the detective beat. Sometimes a new case would get her brain thinking in a different way that would help solve the old one.

On her way out, Kate was detained several minutes by crossing paths with Martha, who wanted to know where she was going and if there was any new information about her son. As a result, Ryan, Esposito and Lanie beat her to the crime scene. The body was in an alley just like any other in city, but unlike many of the other bodies they found, this one was burned beyond recognition.

"Wow, it's been a while since we had one this well done," Kate said to her partners. She approached the body from the foot-end and examined the charred remains. "Was the victim burned here?"

"Looks that way."

"Anything unusual?" she asked.

"Well, for starters, he's headless," Lanie said matter-of-factly.

Kate's eyes widened as she craned her neck to see the opposite end of the body; why hadn't she noticed that right away? First day back after only a week away and she was making rookie observation mistakes! "Did you look for the head?"

"Yeah, but no luck. Unis are going to search through that dumpster but its possible the head isn't here." Ryan informed her.

As Kate observed the scene, Lanie stooped down to examine the remains. It appeared as though accelerant had been applied to the top of the body—where the head and neck should have been—but nowhere else. As a result, the legs were not as badly burned. She could see something sticking out of what would have been the victim's pocket and gently pulled it out with tweezers. The genuine leather wallet had not been entirely destroyed, so she flipped it open hoping for an ID. Involuntarily, she gasped.

"What is it?" Esposito asked, walking over to her. He looked over her shoulder and gazed at the partially melted license and felt his stomach drop down to his feet.

Upon noticing his paling partner, Ryan, too, walked over to Lanie and quickly found the reason for everyone's stunned salience.

It took Kate another full minute to realize what was happening on the other side of the body. "Guys?" she questioned their bizarre expressions. "What is it?"

"Victim's wallet," Esposito said simply.

"And…is there an ID in it?" she questioned slightly annoyed.

Ryan, Lanie and Esposito exchanged glances, neither of them wanting to be the one to speak to the news. Finally, Esposito took a step forward, looked her in the eye and said, "It's Castle's."

Kate felt her knees begin to buckle. No. Surely no. She'd heard him wrong. She looked down at the body, which was nothing more than charred crisp cloth, flesh and bone, and then back up at Esposito. In a nearly inaudible voice she asked, "What?"

Esposito walked all the way over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She rolled her shoulder to remove his touch. "No," she said quietly. "There must be some…it's a mistake…"

Ryan brought the wallet to her and held it open. On one side was the melted license. His image could not be seen, but his name and address were still visible. On the other side of the wallet was a photo with singed edges. It was her, walking along the beach and leaving a trail of footprints in her wake; Castle had taken it during their first trip to the Hamptons and it had been in his wallet ever since.

Kate's world began to spin. Tremors coursed through her extremities. A vice was closing tighter and tighter around her ribcage and her stomach began to roil as the bile rose in her throat. She shot her hand to her mouth and hurried from the crime scene. She had just enough of her detective training left in her conscious brain to know not to contaminate the crime scene.

"Tell us it's not him, Lanie," Esposito said as he walked into the medical examiner's room, Ryan at his heels.

Lanie looked up to them both, her eyes still bloodshot from her earlier tears. "Where is she?"

"In the hall," Ryan said. "Gates tried to get her to go home, but she refused. It was all we could do to keep her from not coming in here. She doesn't need to see this again." Ryan surpassed a shiver. Truthfully, none of them needed to see it.

"It can't be him, Lanie," Esposito repeated. He had already chosen to live in the lovely world of denial until DNA evidence proved that impossible. "Tell us it's not him."

"Don't you think I don't want this to be him as much as you guys? I don't want to break my friend's heart but I gotta do this by the book. We sent out for DNA samples but that's gonna take a little while." She explained.

"Can't we use something else to identify him?" Esposito asked. "Like his uh, you know," he said while gesturing towards his groin region. Lanie gave him a perturbed look.

"Dude," Ryan said in a disapproving tone. They'd already discussed it while Kate was in the ladies room making herself presentable. They were going to stop her from looking at the body again if it could be at all avoided.

Lanie sighed. "Even if that was a medically accurate way of identifying something—which it's not—most of the soft tissue has been burned off. Besides, it appears the genitals were cut off before the body was burned."

Both men winced and grabbed their crotches unconsciously. "Jesus…" Esposito added.

"There is one thing," Lanie continued. She gestured towards the body with her pen, but before she could continue the doors to the autopsy room burst open.

"What's taking so long?" Kate asked, standing in the doorway.

Esposito quickly walked towards her, blocking her view. "Jesus, Kate get back in the hall!"

"No wait," Lanie interrupted before he could push her outside. "We need her now. You don't have to come any closer, but we need to know—did Castle have any tattoos?"

Ryan's brow furrowed. "You can see tattoos? I thought it would be too badly burned for that."

"Yes, but not everywhere," Lanie said to him before turning back to her friend. "Did he have any Kate?"

She shook he head. "No."

"Are you sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Not even," she paused and lowered her voice slightly, "on his buttocks region?"

Ryan and Esposito snorted with laughter. Annoyed, Kate stalked forward and stepped around Esposito's barricade. "Seriously, he didn't."

"It's okay, Beckett; you can tell us." Esposito smirked and Kate folded her arms over her chest.

"Guys, I swear he didn't have a tattoo on his ass."

"Well this guy did." Lanie gestured to what used to be the victims buttock region. "It was here; underneath where the wallet was. The top skin was badly burned but underneath you can see pattern that remained. No idea what it was of, but I'm certain it was a tattoo."

For the first time that day, Kate smiled and relief flooded her body. She had not called Martha or Alexis, unsure of how to break the news to them when she struggled to believe it herself, but now it seemed she didn't have to and she could not have been more grateful for that.

"So," Esposito began, "unless he got an ass tattoo in the past four weeks…"

"It's not him," Kate concluded for him. "Lanie, you're the best."

"Don't thank me yet," Lanie cautioned her. "I still think we should wait for the DNA results to be once hundred percent certain just in case the Spriatis' initiation ritual is a tattoo."

"Let's hope not," Ryan said.

Esposito rubbed his chin. "The question now is why did the Spiriatis feel the need to fake his death? What changed?"

"Maybe we're getting closer," Kate suggested.

"Maybe. You didn't mention that the undercover saw him to Castle's mom or Alexis, did you?"

"Of course not," she responded in a "What am I? An Idiot?" tone. "I told Martha we had proof he was alive but I didn't tell her what that proof was."

"Maybe that was all it took," Ryan supposed.

Kate's brow hardened and she rested her firsts on her hip. "Then we need to turn up the heat. We need to get him back—now."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Despite being more determined than ever, the team had nothing concrete to go at the Spiriati family with and they knew they would only have one shot. If they attempted a case and failed miserably then the next body that turned up might actually be Castle's. Gates agreed their best course of action would be to tail Vinnie Spiriati and hope that something turned up.

As it turned out, that idea was perfect. On the third day of their tail, Ryan and Esposito pulled him over for failing to come to a complete stop at a stop sign. Ryan spotted the barrel of a handgun sticking out from underneath the front passenger seat. They used this sighting as an excuse to pull Vinnie out of the vehicle and search it thoroughly. Much to their pleasant surprise, beneath a façade of tools and trash in the trunk lay a quarter million dollars of cocaine.

With this discover, they were easily able to get a warrant to search his home. The moment it came in, Kate was already putting on her coat and grabbing her gun from her top desk drawer, but Gates refused to let her go. She protested, but Gates insisted. While they knew Castle was there, they did not "officially" know that and they had to do everything by the book if they had any hope of nailing Vinnie Spiriati, especially with the Feds breathing down their necks. Kate's personal relationship with Castle meant she had to sit this one out, which left her very unhappy.

"Don't worry, Beckett," Ryan had assured her before leaving with his partner. "We'll get him for you."

Along with the SWAT team and the DEA, Ryan and Esposito breached the Spiriati residence. Using plastic zip ties, they handcuffed the six low-level dealers and house employees they found on the first floor before moving on to the second. The first two bedrooms they encountered were empty. The third was locked.

Esposito swiftly kicked in the door with one movement. When the splintered wood hit the carpet, the barrels of their guns came face to face with a shell-shocked looking writer, his fingertips poised above the keyboard of his laptop. "Jesus! You could have knocked!"

"'Sup Castle," Esposito said as he entered the room, searching under the bed and in the closet and adjoining bathroom. When he found no one lying in wait, he returned to Castle, who was sitting on the bed, eyes still wide. "Long time no see."

Ryan clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Yeah what's up with that? You don't write, you don't call."

"You guys knew I was here?" Castle asked with a slight squeal.

Esposito shrugged and looked purposely perplexed. "Who? Us? We didn't know. Did you know Ryan?"

"No. I didn't know."

Castle gave them both a disapproving head shake. "Smooth, very smooth. You're really not going to answer me?"

Esposito holstered his weapon and pulled out a zip tie. "How do we know we can trust you? You could have turned."

"Could have turned!?" Castle squeaked incredulously. "GUYS! It's me."

"Yeah, we know," Ryan said knowingly.

"That's why we're concerned." Esposito gestured for Castle to come towards him. "Step off the bed, Mr. Castle—slowly."

Castle did as he asked, though with a perturbed expression. "You're not really going to cuff me, are you?"

As an answer, Esposito looped the plastic strip around Castle's hands and pulled it snug against his skin. "Like I said, how do we know we can trust you?"

Fire in his eyes, Castle took a step towards the broken bedroom door. "Follow me." He led the way down the hall to a room that looked like it could have been a closet. Instead, the walls were lined with a dozen television screens, each displaying a different grey-and-white picture. The SWAT techs were examining the equipment so Castle instructed, "Turn it to channel forty-seven."

When the tech had done as he asked, the interior of Castle's loft appeared on screen at the bottom right of the wall. From the angle, it appeared as though the camera was mounted above his front door, which allowed them to view the kitchen and sitting room of the loft, both of which were empty. "They're watching her—them," Castle explained. "They had pictures of Alexis attending her classes, too."

Ryan and Esposito exchanged looks upon the realization that their theories as to Castle's unwilling detainment had been right all along. "Alright man, let's get you down to the station and get your statement."

Once Castle was in the back of Ryan and Esposito's car, he leaned forward so his hands hung over the front seat. "Can you take these off now?"

"Wait 'til we're at the station."

He muttered under his breath before asking, more annoyed than ever, "Will you at least tell me how you knew I was in there?"

"Got an undercover in the family." Esposito explained. "He saw you sipping tea in the boss's living room and told his CO you turned."

Castle grumbled. "Why doesn't anyone have any faith in me!?"

Ryan glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Relax, man. You know Beckett never believed that."

Castle sat up a bit straighter at the mention of his fiancée. "Beckett? Where is she? Is she mad?"

"I think she's a little too concerned for your wellbeing to be mad right now."

Esposito smiled. "But don't worry—that'll come."

He dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. "You guys have to understand—they threatened her, my mother and Alexis. They were going to…I couldn't…"

"'s okay man," Ryan reassured him with a smile. "We know."

Esposito and Ryan led Castle directly into one of the interrogation rooms at the twelfth. The whole time they walked through the squad room, Castle's eyes searched for Kate, but he could not find her. He wondered if Gates had sent her home; taken her off the case. Surely, she would have been there if she hadn't been banished.

Once he was seated on the interogatee side of table, Ryan removed his hand restraints. Gates sat on the interrogator side, waited for Ryan to leave, and then smiled. She folded her hands on the table in front of her and leaned in. "Mr. Castle. It sure has been…different without you around."

He smiled and blinked slowly. "Oh, Sir, I missed you too."

Gates responded quickly. "I didn't say it was bad-different."

"Ah…"

"So, do you want to tell me where you've been for the past month?"

"Right where you found me," Castle responded. "I've been there the whole time. Haven't felt he warmth of sunlight since September," he added while dramatically glancing towards the ceiling.

"I see. And you were there for? What? Research? Vacation?"

Castle scooted his chair in closer and rested his hands with palms flat against the table. "Actually, the crime boss wanted me to write his story—the man behind the man, if you will. He's a Derrick Storm fan, evidently, and insisted I would be the best at painting him in a favorable light."

Gates nodded. "So he held you hostage? Would you like to press charges?"

"No!" He responded loudly then he cleared his throat. "I mean…that won't be necessary."

She cocked her head as she looked at him. "And why not? You mean to say that you stayed there voluntarily. That you didn't send your mother, you daughter, your fiancé a text message, letter, or smoke signal for all these weeks because you…you were busy. You forgot. Didn't get around to it."

"Of course not!" He insisted. "I…. It was a strong suggestion that I not do that."

Gates arched an eyebrow at him. "A strong suggestion?"

"Yes."

"And was there a strong suggestion about what would happen if you did attempt to contact them?"

"Yes…" Castle brushed at invisible dust on the table before he continued. "It was suggested that if I did contact them, an incendiary device might possibly find its way into a car that happened to be very similar in make and model to Beckett's. Maybe."

Gates nodded and leaned back in her chair. "I see. So then would you care to share with me all the wonderful details that you were privy to while writing this story?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain, I don't think that would be advisable."

"Because of those possible incendiary devices?"

"Right."

She leaned forward once more. "Mr. Castle—do you know what obstruction of justice is?"

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. He thought for a moment, formulating the best response. "Okay what if—what if—you were to _happen upon_ the notes I've made for this book that I will be writing? And you were to, oh I don't know say, confiscate them? They're back at the house on my laptop, which is in that room Ryan and Esposito found me in. You did have a warrant to search the house and its contents, correct?"

"Of course."

"Right, so if you were to find those notes and use them, it wouldn't be like I was _telling_ you what I knew. Would that possibly work?"

For a solid minute she stared at him, never blinking once. Then, suddenly, her expression softened and she stood from her chair. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Castle, I'll have a look at those notes and then if I have any further questions I'm pretty sure I know where to find you."

Castle stood as well, giving her an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Captain."

Gates nodded termly at him. She took to steps towards the door then stopped and turned back. "You, uh, might want to go next door. I believe there's someone there who'd like to see you."

Castle hurried towards the exit so quickly he smashed his kneecap into the chair as he went, but he didn't notice the pain. He bounded to the door of the observation room and whipped it open. She stood by the two-way mirror twisting her engagement ring round and round on her finger. She looked older, somehow, but more beautiful than ever.

She took a half step towards him, bringing her face closer to the light. With just that one look he could tell she was barely holding it together, but she didn't have to; not any more. He was back and he was more than willing to return to his rightful duty of taking care of her.

He crossed the room in three swift steps and pulled her into his embrace. She locked her arms around his waist and buried her face into his neck, breathing him in, the smell of him both making her weak and building back all of her strength. He strong arms around her was the exact thing she dreamed about, the thing that kept her going all those nights she spent alone.

"I'm so sorry; I'm so, so sorry." He exhaled into her hair. Holding her again was even better than he imagined; he wasn't sure he could ever let her go again.

"It's okay," she said into his collar. "You're back; that's all that matters." After several more moments she reluctantly slid her face away from his neck and nuzzled her nose against his throat, jaw and then lips before using her hands on his cheeks to pull his mouth down to hers. He gave her a kiss that should have fogged the mirror behind them to the point of complete obstruction.

"God," he sighed against her lips when they finally took a breath. "I missed you so much I could hardly breathe."

She gave him two more quick kisses before saying, "I know; me too." Then she stepped back, grabbed his hand, and smiled. "C'mon; let's go home."

"Promise me one thing?" Castle sighed as he tucked his left hand beneath his chin as he lay on his side facing her. The two of them were buried beneath the blankets on his bed, their feet intertwined. "That we'll never go that long without having sex again."

The sated smile on Kate's face grew wider. "Deal."

He reached out his hand and ran his fingertips from her temple down to the underneath of her jaw. She shut her eyes and leaned into his hand. When she opened them, he could see puddles of tears forming in the corners. "What is it?"

She sniffed. "I just…there were times when I was so afraid I'd never see you again…"

Castle propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at her. He picked up one her hands and pulled it to his chest as he spoke. "I'm sorry. But you have to know that it would take a hell of a lot more than a crazy mobster to keep me from you for eternity; I would do whatever it took to get back to you. I tried, Kate. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain but my hands were tied. I couldn't risk your life just to contact you. He was watching you, Alexis, my mother. I had to do what he asked."

She nodded knowing she would have done the same thing. She would have done whatever it took to keep him safe. She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before settling back against the pillows. She lay still for a moment before posing the question that had been bothering her for a while. "How did they get you anyway?"

"Oh well," he sighed and rolled back to his side of the bed. He tucked both hands behind his head, cradling it with his fingers, and continued. "I was meeting who I thought was one of their lower level guys to ask questions for the next Nikki Heat-"

"You know, I'm really going to have to restrict your sources from now on." She glared over at him and asked, "Are you insane? The Spiriati family?"

Castle shrugged. "It seemed like everything was going to be fine…until that pulled that whole 'we'll kill everyone you love if you don't do what we say' routine. Damn mobsters."

"Castle!"

He gave her an innocent smile. "Okay, okay—no more mob research; I promise"

Her brow narrowed. "Are you crossing your fingers?"

"Umm…no?"

"Castle!" She shook her head, running her hands across her face as she sat up, tucked the sheet around her body, and gazed down at him, those puddles of tears threatening to fall. "Don't you understand? I can't lose you. I _can't_."

He sat up and ran his hand across her shoulder and down her arm. "Okay, okay I promise—I really, really promise." He added at her suspect expression. Then, he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers to seal that promise.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Just remember—I have a gun and you don't have a choice."

He grinned. "How could I ever forget?"

They settled back against the pillows, her head resting on his chest as they drifted off together. There was still much to discuss and more promises to be made, but for that moment they were content just to be with each other, just as they always would be.

* * *

**Thanks for reading everyone!**


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